A Little Bit Off

Frank Praeger

Picaresque beetles, a plethora of fungi,
lilac, wasps and a yellow-shafted flicker.
Surrounded by so many,
each coming and going,
each combatant confidant.
Hemmed in,
gigantic as each mid-day flight,
a few weeds, innocuous shrubs,
gravel and sore feet,
and in the quiet predators wait.
Luck?
Out of?
then run,
mundane
conundrums
a whistle away,
and incalculable misdirections.
The tentative does stimulate.
Numbers remain.
Separated, an arm and a leg,

a magnitude compressed
yet, marginal;
contrary to beg
caress.
the helpless stay,
wherever
tra-la-la-la.
Seagulls float in air.
As someone takes a bath
a juvenile complains.
Glory, awards and sulky aftermaths.

White
followed
by black sand.

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